


A Witch in Venice

by Silbrith



Series: Crossed Lines [8]
Category: Supernatural, White Collar
Genre: Gen, Mystery, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22172260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silbrith/pseuds/Silbrith
Summary: A lost Coptic sword may provide the means to defeat an ancient foe. January 2006. Crossed Lines story #8, a fusion of Supernatural with Caffrey Conversation.
Series: Crossed Lines [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/513628
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Ancient Sword

_Notes: This story takes place after the events in Italian Masquerade. The first chapter contains the essentials of the backstory for new readers. I wrote a short summary of the status of the key players at the beginning of the story for our blog,[Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/). The post is called "[Destination: A Witch in Venice](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2019/12/destination-witch-of-venice.html)." See the notes at the end of the chapter for more information._

* * *

**New Haven, Connecticut. New Year's Eve 2006.**

"Who needs Venice?" Dean scanned the group sitting at the table as if challenging them to contradict him. "We're surrounded by comic strips, nonstop beer, pizza, and chicken wings." He gave a nod to Chloe. "I hope you noted I named all the key food groups. What better way to ring in 2006!"

Sam smiled ruefully at Maia. She'd probably disagree, but she'd gone along with Chloe's suggestion to party at Shazam Karaoke in New Haven. The club must have been decorated with Dean in mind. Large posters of superheroes were on the walls with Batman-styled word bubbles on the ceiling.

Dean was the only one of the group who'd performed, belting out rock classics till he was booted off by yells for songs by the Backstreet Boys. At midnight, they'd taken their beer outside to watch the fireworks over the West River.

This was the girls' treat with Chloe and Maia insisting on picking up the tab for the party. Chloe's contract in New York City had ended earlier in the month. She'd landed a technical writing job back in New Haven which was also home to Sam's girlfriend Maia. Girlfriend . . . That word still took getting used to.

After Jessica died, Sam didn't think he'd ever call another woman his girlfriend. But then what were the odds he'd be dating a doctoral candidate at Yale? If you factored in the probability that the woman would be distantly related to a woman Dean was smitten with, the resulting number was astronomically remote, and yet it was true. Sam used to think his chance of finding lasting happiness with a woman was nil as long as he was a hunter. But Maia and Chloe were proving to him and Dean that the possibility wasn't as slim as they'd thought.

In the meantime, he was enjoying the moment. Maia had offered Chloe the use of her second bedroom for the duration of her contract, and that meant both he and Dean had a place to stay as well.

"I'm much happier to have you here too," Chloe agreed, "but how could you have turned down Mozzie's offer?" She sighed longingly. "Free airfare to Venice has to be a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"I was surprised to hear Mozzie and Janet were in Venice," Maia said, "but then I'm not sure what he does for a living."

"Neither am I," Sam said, although he'd wager most of it was illegal.

"Janet's helping a fellow designer with costumes for the carnival season," Chloe explained. "She told me that Neal, Sara, and the Burkes are also in Venice for New Year's. Janet mentioned that there was a case they were working on and they were able to combine it with a vacation."

"Mozzie called a couple of days ago," Dean said. "Neal found another painting which appears to show the witch from Connecticut, Alcy Lancaster. This time it was painted by a nineteenth-century artist. Neal's now found Alcy in paintings from three different centuries."

Maia clasped Sam's hand under the table. "More confirmation that Alcy's another name for Astrena. If that goddess is in Venice, I'm glad you didn't go."

"We're a long, _long_ way from taking off to Italy," Dean confirmed. "Just because Alcy liked Venice centuries ago doesn't mean she's a fan now."

"But you can't dismiss the possibility," Chloe argued. "No one's seen her in the States since her house was destroyed."

"True," he admitted, "but we shouldn't jump the gun on equating Alcy with Astrena. Instead of being the goddess, she could be one of her sicko sisters."

"From what we've read, the sisters are just as evil," Maia said. "Psychically feeding off artists and musicians." She shuddered. "My point stands. If she's in Venice, I'm glad you're not."

Sam didn't miss the quick glance Dean gave him. Maia had little understanding of the life he and Dean led on the road. If it wasn't Alcy, it'd be some other demon or monster. And they'd likely be a lot bloodier.

"In any case, there's no need for us to be in Venice," Dean said. "That Italian hunter we've been corresponding with—Paolo Ricci—has a lead on the sword of Saint Mercurius. He's in Venice to check up on the report. I gave Mozzie his name. In this type of situation, it's always better to let the local hunters handle it."

And spare Dean the need of flying. Sam only gave a trace of a smile to show his brother he knew full well the real reason Dean didn't want to go to Venice. Dean would rather deal with a basement full of vampires than get on an airplane, and he probably thought they were a helluva lot less dangerous. Sam could have easily argued the point. An ancient hunter claimed that the sword of Saint Mercurius was capable of killing Astrena's sisters and possibly damaging the goddess herself. If they could find it, they'd have a fighting chance. There hadn't been any recent reports of the goddess and her sisters, but Sam had the uneasy feeling they were only experiencing a temporary lull.

"I'm glad there's not an immediate need," Chloe said, "because it will give us more of a chance to work on our latest essence. This one's a modification of the oil I made to keep vampires from being able to smell you. We found a recipe in Maia's grimoire which we think will repel hexes."

"But there are several issues with it," Maia warned. "The effect doesn't last very long—only about thirty minutes. And we've only been able to do limited testing on it."

Dean took a slow breath. "Do I want to know what kind of spells you've been using to conduct your experiments?"

Chloe probably meant her smile to be reassuring but she looked too nervous for it to be effective. "You remember when you confronted Alcy in the witch house that she was able to slam you against the wall?"

Dean's eyebrows hit his hairline. "And you can do that now?"

"Think of it this way," she pleaded. "It's much more effective than pepper spray. Now you don't have to worry about us being attacked. Besides, we don't give you grief about the arsenal you carry in your trunk. You should consider our herbs and potions to be equivalent, and ours are less deadly."

"Don't mind Dean," Sam said. "He's just grumpy he can't do it." Sam ignored the sharp kick to his shin. "Does the oil prevent the spell from working?"

"It did in our first trial," Maia said, "but we need to do more testing, and even then we won't know if it's effective against a goddess."

"But we may be able to help on that sword," Chloe said. "If you can get a rough location we could make a potion which will help pinpoint it."

"The sword is Coptic," Maia said, turning to Chloe. "I bet if we used essence of Greek crocus—"

"—and added that peach-colored orchid you were showing me."

"Plus a little angelica . . ."

The women quickly lost Sam in their flower power chatter, but if the results were effective, a trip might be in the cards after all.

**Gritti Palace, Venice. New Year's Day.**

Mozzie set down his Bellini cocktail. "If only you'd agree to stay longer in Venice, you'd get to see witches."

"And why would I possibly want to do that?" Peter demanded. "Haven't we had enough trouble with witches already?"

Neal smiled. He knew what Mozzie was referencing. They were enjoying what would probably be a final round of drinks at the Longhi Bar of the Gritti Palace. Neal would miss the opulent splendor of the hotel. The surroundings made him feel like he'd been transported to a private club in a doge's mansion.

The fantasy was about to end. Tomorrow morning Sara would fly back to London. He and the Burkes would return to New York. Henry and Eric would continue on to India for a week's vacation.

Their New Year's celebration had been a gift from Mozzie. He'd provided the initial clues about a Mafia crime lord in the hopes an original Dante manuscript would be found in his collection of stolen artworks. And although the Dante turned out to be a fourteenth-century copy, the remarkable illustrations and high quality of the manuscript made it extremely valuable. Also discovered were several works of Italian masters, including a Caravaggio altarpiece. The finder's fees meant that Mozzie had profited handsomely with more than enough to finance their end-of-the-year revelries even after donating most of the proceeds to the Vatican Library.

"You might enjoy these witches, Peter," Neal said. "They'll be rowing on the canals."

"Witch gondolas?" Peter asked incredulously.

"Not quite, Suit, but close," Mozzie said. "On the feast of the Epiphany, men disguise themselves as witches to row in a regatta."

"Why witches?" Peter asked. "Don't tell me there are demonic forces at work."

"These are good witches," Neal assured him. "In Italian folklore, an old woman known as the Befana brings gifts to kids on Epiphany Eve. She flies in on a broom and drops the gifts through the chimney. Sound familiar?"

"Just a little," Peter said, chuckling. "When will the regatta be held?"

"On January 6," Mozzie said. "That's only a few days away. I'm sure we could find something to do till then. Perhaps whatever Signora Gallini wants to discuss will persuade you to stay." His eyes drifted to the ceiling. "Or there may be some other noble endeavor."

Peter had received a call from their contact in the Carabinieri that she'd like to meet with them. She offered to come by the hotel to minimize any interference with their vacation. The others were upstairs dressing for dinner. Mozzie had offered to keep Neal and Peter company while they waited. That he had an ulterior motive came as no surprise.

Peter frowned at Mozzie, indicating he was fully aware of what he was attempting to promote. "You don't need us to look for the sword of Saint Mercurius. Don't you have the name of that Italian hunter Dean and Sam were corresponding with? I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have your help."

"Claudia's here," Neal advised in a low voice and stood up to greet her.

Mozzie hastily gathered his drink. "Ciao for now," he murmured and scurried off to a back corner.

Although Mozzie had filled out the requisite paperwork for the finder's fee under his alias of Dante Haversham, he hadn't met Claudia. Evidently he saw no reason to step into the limelight now.

They'd speculated about the motive of her call on the way back to the hotel. Neal's best guess was that it had to do with the identity fraud cases. The last time they'd seen her, they'd been in Florence. She'd mentioned in parting that she was coming to Venice to work on the problem. They'd faced a similar rash recently in New York City. Hopefully the outbreak wasn't being caused by vampire hackers as theirs had been.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"I'm sorry to intrude on your holiday," Claudia said, shaking hands with them.

"Our sting bumped into your Christmas leave," Peter said. "I hope we can be equally helpful." Peter knew Claudia from their joint work on the Interpol art crimes task force. He'd been impressed by her skill in handling the raid at the Mafia crime lord's estate. Claudia wouldn't have called unless it was something urgent. She knew they were leaving the next day.

"Would you like an espresso or something else to drink?" Neal asked.

"Espresso, _grazie_."

" _Prego_." Neal beckoned for the waiter.

He and Peter were also drinking coffee. Peter wanted to hold off on any alcohol until he knew why Claudia wanted to see them. "Did something come up regarding the case?" he asked.

"Yes, but not the one you worked on with me. There was a murder a couple of nights ago, and the uniqueness of the crime led me to think of you." She pulled out a folder and notepad from her portfolio. The folder she left closed on the cocktail table.

Neal eyed the folder speculatively. He must be itching to open it. Peter knew he was. Normally they weren't called upon to consult on murders.

She waited till the coffee arrived before speaking about the case. "The murder victim was an artist. Friends told us he'd been in poor health over the past few months, suffering from insomnia, fatigue, and weight loss." She shrugged. "Artists often have a difficult time earning a decent wage. The symptoms are nothing unusual."

"Meaning the way he died was?" Peter prompted, giving Neal a quick look. The symptoms sounded similar to what Neal had experienced when he was psychically linked to Astrena.

Claudia nodded. "His exsanguinated body was found in a back alley. A scorpion had been stamped onto his forehead." She nodded to the folder. "That contains photographs of the victim."

Peter examined the evidence. The scorpion stamp was small but as precise as a tattoo. The jagged neck wounds were consistent with those he'd seen on a corpse in New Jersey last summer. He passed the folder to Neal, who only took a quick look before handing it back.

"This is not the first case of exsanguination we've discovered," Claudia added. "There have been three other similar murders over the past month. My superiors refuse to consider the possibility of vampires. They believe some sick individual or possibly a gang is using the technique to incite terror among the populace. For that reason, we haven't released any details to the press."

"But you disagree with your boss?" Neal prompted.

"All possibilities need to be considered," she hedged. "I researched other cases and discovered that a few exsanguinated corpses had been recovered last summer in the northeastern states. Peter, your name was attached to one of the reports. Is there anything you can share that might help my investigation?"

_Like tell you vampires are real?_ Even if he told her what he knew, that didn't necessarily mean vampires were roaming the canals of Venice.

"Were the other victims in Venice also artists?" Neal asked, providing time for Peter to decide how to respond.

"One was. The other was a violinist who played in a chamber orchestra."

Neal tilted his head toward Peter, and he didn't need telepathy to read his consultant's mind. They couldn't remain silent. "We became involved with a few cases over the past several months which introduced us to a segment of the world we hadn't known existed," Peter said, proceeding cautiously. Based on her reaction, he'd decide how much to reveal. "I'd never believed in the existence of vampires, or witches for that matter, but I've been forced to change my opinion."

She sat back in the club chair and nodded. "I knew I was right to come to you. I'm also aware they aren't mere myths. My cousin Paolo educated me."

"Does he by any chance hunt them?" Neal asked, leaning forward.

She gave him a startled look. "How did you know?"

"We have a couple of friends who are hunters."

"I recently discovered that Paolo was one as well." At Neal's questioning look, she explained, "He died two weeks ago."

When they expressed their sympathy, she added, "Paolo told me about the nature of his work shortly before his death."

Neal pulled out his cell phone and texted a message. Looking up, he said, "I took the liberty of inviting an associate of ours to join the discussion. He has information relevant to your investigation."

And he thought Mozzie would divulge it in person? Evidently their "associate" needed additional persuasion, as Neal was forced to walk over and escort him. Peter could see Neal murmur something in his ear. Whatever he said must have done the trick because Mozzie seemed to relax.

"Claudia, this is Dante Haversham," Neal said, introducing their shadow-skulker.

Her face brightened. "You're the one who provided us the tips about the art!"

Mozzie nodded deprecatorily. "I keep a low profile because of the nature of my job. Hunting monsters is not understood by the general public."

Her eyes widened. "You're a hunter, too?"

"Advisor to hunters," he corrected. "I've been trying to contact Paolo Ricci. I understand he was your cousin?"

"Yes, the cause of death was attributed to cardiac arrest, but he had no heart problems and was in excellent health. I'm convinced it was murder."

"Allow me to express my condolences on your loss. Two hunters in the States have been corresponding with your cousin about the sword of Saint Mercurius. Are you by any chance familiar with it?"

Not only had she heard of it, but she was also aware of Astrena, the Greek goddess who fed off the life force of artists and musicians. Suddenly Peter's task was much easier.

"There's a person we've been looking for by the name of Alcy Lancaster," Peter explained. "At a minimum, she's a witch. There's some evidence indicating she may be Astrena herself. Or she could be one of the goddess's sisters. The physical symptoms of the deceased artist resemble those of someone they've been feeding off of." Peter didn't mention Neal had been one of the victims. There was no need to refer to his personal involvement. "The sword of Saint Mercurius reportedly has the ability to kill the sisters. Its effect on Astrena is unknown."

"We believe Alcy has a connection to Venice," Neal added. "She apparently was the model for Venetian artists painting in the 16th, 17th, and 19th centuries, including Titian. She disappeared from a town in Connecticut in May. She may have relocated here."

"She also has a connection to scorpions," Peter said. The memories of that night when he and Neal were trapped in her house were as vivid as if they'd happened only a few days ago. "It's a small detail but, in view of the similarity of the cases, worth mentioning. Neal and I were trapped in her house. We witnessed the power she has to paralyze her victims. She was wearing a Victorian gown when we saw her. The bodice had a lace filigree of scorpions."

"Not only that," Neal said, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward. "The scorpions had red-crystals dangling from their stingers. When she threatened me, she mocked me for having entered a scorpion's nest."

Claudia's face grew even more troubled as she listened to their account. "How certain are you that she's the same person depicted in the paintings you mentioned?"

"I have the most confidence about the Titian," Neal said. "In Alcy's house, there was a collection of artist portraits. Unfortunately they were all destroyed when the house burnt to the ground. One of the paintings appeared to be a self-portrait of Titian. It closely resembled a portrait I'd seen in a museum but in this one, Titian wore a pendant that had a small scorpion dangling from it. We believe those portraits were of Alcy's victims."

"And you suspect she uses vampires to collect blood for her to select future victims?"

"Not just for that," Peter said. "We unearthed an identity fraud ring run by vampires in Manhattan last month. A demon by the name of Crowley, who is a known associate of Astrena's, was in Alcy's house. He was identified as having run a similar ring in West Virginia. He's now disappeared from the States along with Alcy. You'd mentioned that you were here in Venice on an identity fraud case. You could be facing the same sort of vampire hackers."

Claudia jotted a note on her notepad. "I read the case report about the ring in Manhattan. There was no mention of vampires."

"I was under orders to scrub any references," Peter admitted. "Our situation is not that different from yours. Only the members of my team know the truth."

"It sounds like I should request that your entire team come over. Human criminals I can deal with, but vampires?" She shook her head. "I don't know the first thing about how to tackle this."

Mozzie cleared his throat. "If you'll permit me, I may be able to recruit two American hunters to help."

"Thank you, but I doubt I could afford them. Peter and Neal are members of the art crimes task force. For them I can secure permission"—she glanced around the bar—"as long as you don't mind staying in more modest accommodations."

"Assuming I could bring them over, would you be able to take care of their expenses in Venice?" Mozzie asked, looking at her expectantly.

She hesitated then relaxed into a small smile. "I have a friend who runs a pensione. We could probably arrange something."

Was Mozzie now Dean and Sam's agent? Peter half-expected for him to pull out a business card. Claudia didn't know what she was in for. But Peter still hadn't decided how he'd respond.

Faced with the prospect of vampires in town, his initial reaction was to depart on the first plane out of Venice. Neal had already been victimized once. They'd been away from the Bureau for a week. Granted they'd been working a case, and Jones could handle White Collar in their absence, but Peter missed his home. He missed Satchmo. Attempting to run down Alcy, assuming she was indeed present, could take weeks or months. They couldn't stay here indefinitely.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"How long do you plan to stay?" Sara asked, pulling out more clothes from the armoire and dumping them on the bed.

"Probably only a couple of days," Neal said. "The Italians had already put in a request for me and Peter to present a workshop on museum security. This provides an excellent opportunity. We scheduled it for next Wednesday."

"Is this the same workshop you gave in London? The one where you train agents to think like thieves?"

Neal nodded. "I thought the Da Vinci that we used for the previous case would make a good example. I didn't steal it, but the Mafia believed I had. How would the Carabinieri go about lifting it from the museum in Parma? If I'm lucky, they may provide some new solutions for my repertoire."

Sara laughed. "Don't let crooks hear about that enhanced expertise. Your reputation is sufficiently golden as it is." She was proud of herself for not mentioning that Neal was already enough of a target. He was no different than many others whose net worth or skills drew the notice of undesirables. Why was it so much harder to be at peace with Neal's situation than if he'd been a famous celebrity?

"Would you like me to fold your blouses?" he asked.

"Please." Sara had been lecturing herself ever since she heard the news to avoid making waves about his plans. She refused to be a clinging girlfriend who fell apart every time he had a dangerous assignment. Neal was being open about why he was staying. She wouldn't allow herself to make him regret the decision.

After meeting with Claudia, he came upstairs to tell her the news. Peter and Mozzie were probably doing the same with Elizabeth and Janet. By the time they'd have dinner, only Henry and Eric would need to be informed. The way Neal explained it, the case sounded safe enough. They'd stay till Dean and Sam arrived. Mozzie had contacted "a friend of a friend" to make the arrangements for the hunters' flight. The Winchesters would arrive in Venice tomorrow afternoon. Dean and Sam had also seen Alcy in the witch house. It wasn't necessary for Neal and Peter to stay around to identify her.

"You understand why I postponed my flight, right?" Neal asked, eyeing her sympathetically.

"Because you think Raquel Laroque can help?"

He nodded. "There's no record of Alcy Lancaster in Venice. If she's here, she's using an alias. Raquel has extensive connections in the art world. It's worth a visit."

"Will Peter go with you?"

"No, Raquel won't divulge anything to any law enforcement agent."

She nodded absently and placed a pair of silk pants in her bag.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

It was on the tip of her tongue to deny anything was on the matter, but she was asking him to be open. She needed to be as well. "I was just wondering how long you'd be able to run the con. I understand that for now you need to pretend that Rolf Mansfeld's scheme worked. You're leading a secret life as a thief and forger, only now you're working for Steinar Wolff rather than Rolf."

"And Raquel presents an ideal opportunity to spread the word. The risk to Peter is low. No one knows that he's Steinar. In a sense, my situation is more secure as well because I'm no longer a freelance agent. Raquel won't question that"—he shrugged and smiled disarmingly—"much."

He took the clothes from her hands, placed them on the bed, then pulled her down to sit next to him. "It's not Raquel, is it?"

"No, I already knew her jewelry boutique was here. And I understand why I shouldn't meet her. Your life is complicated enough. There's no need for me to be inserted into the con too." She and Neal had discussed the potential conflicts which could arise. He'd never told Sara that Raquel was a thief, but Sara assumed she engaged in illegal activities. The only time Sara had seen her was from afar when Raquel helped Neal con Keller. Someday Sara might be pursuing her for Sterling-Bosch. They agreed to keep their cases separate from their personal lives as much as possible. He understood that Raquel might be on her radar someday, and he wouldn't hamper her investigation. If Sara became friends with Raquel now, it could lead to messy entanglements down the road. Mozzie was the lone exception to their rule, and he never discussed illegal endeavors or criminal acquaintances with her.

"It's Alcy," Sara admitted. "You believe she's Astrena. What if she goes after you again?"

"Then Maia and Chloe will just have to make another potion and cure me," he said, keeping his tone light.

Sara made a face as she attempted to do the same. "I hope they're better at potions than I am at cooking."

She must not have succeeded very well in masking her fear, as he drew her close to him, his face growing serious. "Peter and I both have concerns, but this is something I have to do. I can still see the haunted look on the face of the artist's widow in Connecticut. As long as Astrena is out there, she'll continue to be a threat to me and others. If we can find the sword and dispatch her back to the stars, the world will be a little bit safer. Peter and I both feel it's worth the risk."

"And if Dean and Sam can't find the sword?"

"Then we won't stay," he assured her. "The Winchesters contacted a hunter in Romania who's coming to help. They'll share their information with him. Alcy is Europe's problem." He gently stroked the hollow of her throat with his finger then traced a line between her breasts. "In the meantime, we have tonight. After you get on the plane tomorrow, I don't know when I'll see you next. Let's not spend any more time talking about witches."

"When there are other far more pleasurable activities?" She smiled at him. "I think I've done enough packing for a while, don't you?"

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

The next morning passed far too quickly and came to an abrupt end in a flurry of farewells at the airport. Easing the pain of departure for most everyone was the knowledge that it wouldn't be long before they'd see each other again. Henry and Eric would be back from India in a week. Peter and Mozzie would return to El and Janet as soon as they returned to New York. As for Neal, the likelihood of him seeing Sara anytime soon wasn't good. She'd put in a request to be transferred to the New York office but had been told the earliest that might happen would be in the summer. They were left hoping for a case that would necessitate a return to New York.

"It may not be as bad as you think," Peter said as they headed back in the water bus to Venice. "At least now you'll be able to talk about Sara openly at the office. There must have been times last fall when it seemed like Sara was simply a fantasy."

"You're right," Neal said, forcing himself to adopt a more cheerful expression. "Plus, this will give me an incentive to plow through my seminars. By this summer I should have finished the coursework for my doctorate."

"Focus on how much easier it will be to engage in clandestine activities which Sara shouldn't know about," Mozzie urged. "Yes, you really have the ideal situation. It's why Janet and I like to keep our professional lives separate. No messy entanglements."

Peter scowled at him. "Ignore Mozzie's advice. Now I'm the one wishing Sara was already in New York."

"Neal knows what I mean," Mozzie countered, dismissing his argument. "Take what he's doing today as an example. Neal will assume his thief persona to meet with Raquel. A girlfriend would be a distraction." He paused to give a knowing look at Peter. "Sara understands the nature of his work, but there is no need to provoke an unwanted kerfuffle."

"You make a valid point," Peter agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "Remember what a sad sack Neal was when Fiona caught him kissing Raquel at the Met Museum?"

"How could I forget?" Mozzie moaned. "We had to devote a long car trip to cheering him up. If he'd only confided in us immediately about what had occurred, we would have been able to coach him through it."

"I'm right here, guys," Neal protested, "and I wasn't that bad."

"Yes, you were!" they retorted in unison.

"Can we move on to discussing the case, please?" Neal begged. _So much for being open about your feelings._

Mozzie had been able to convince Dean and Sam to come to Venice. They were due to arrive in the afternoon. They would all stay at a pensione which had been recommended by Claudia. Located on a side canal, its gardens and seclusion appealed to Mozzie, and the ample breakfasts would be a hit with Peter and Dean. After moving into their new quarters, Peter and Mozzie would meet Claudia to review her brother's notes. As for Neal, he had an appointment with an old friend.

* * *

_Notes: Thanks for reading! A Witch in Venice has 3 chapters which I'll post weekly on Wednesday. If you'd like to see pictures of the Befana regatta, I have a few on the Pinterest board for this story. I loved hearing from a reader who used the Safari split-screen to have Pinterest open while reading Italian Masquerade. I've been posting all the pins for the story at once so you'll find a few teases about upcoming events as well as the theme music. I chose Ludovico Einaudi, an Italian composer and pianist, for A Witch in Venice._

_Neal's unfortunate kerfuffle with Raquel and Fiona and subsequent painful car trip occurred in The Mirror._

_**Background information** : In the pre-canon Caffrey Conversation AU created by Penna Nomen, FBI Special Agent Peter Burke recruited con artist and expert forger Neal Caffrey in 2003 when he was 24. In exchange for a confession, he was given immunity for past crimes and started working for the FBI as a consultant at the White Collar task force in New York City. Sam and Dean Winchester are demon-hunting brothers. Sam is roughly the same age as Neal. Dean is four years older than Sam. Peter is fifteen years older than Neal. For those familiar with the Supernatural timeline, the action is set early in the second season of Supernatural. The Crossed Lines page on our blog has more background information about the stories._

_Story Visuals and Music: A Witch in Venice board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[pinterest.com/caffreycon](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon)_  
_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: [pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)_  
_Twitter:[@silbrith](https://twitter.com/silbrith)_


	2. Lost Treasures

**Venice. Tuesday, January 2, 2006.**

Raquel's shop was in a narrow passageway next to Campo San Maurizio. The overhanging medieval buildings obscured it from view until you were practically on top of it. The effect was similar to chancing upon a hidden tomb filled with undiscovered riches. It made an appropriate setting for Raquel. The Egyptologist had discovered a lucrative business in selling antique jewelry—both reproductions and the genuine articles. She was on Peter's radar as a possible trafficker in stolen goods and forgeries, and Raquel had been brought in occasionally for questioning, but nothing had ever been proven.

When Neal entered Lost Treasures, a sales assistant greeted him in Italian. A minute later, Raquel came out from a back room.

"I found my love in the secret canal," she said, arching a sculpted eyebrow.

"Feet dangling down in the water," he responded in kind, finishing the line of ancient Egyptian poetry, and kissing her on the cheeks in the Italian manner. 

"I was glad to get your call," she said, linking an arm through his. "I'd hoped you wouldn't leave Venice without visiting me. Come into my office where we can chat."

Raquel had streaked her brunette hair with golden highlights since the last time he saw her, but her sultry smile was just the same. Neal had first met her when he worked for Klaus, and she was operating out of Berlin. She relocated to Venice around the time he moved back to the States. Raquel kept a close watch on the pulse of the art world, both above and underground.

If artists were being plagued by supernatural entities, she'd likely have heard about it. But in Neal's experience, Raquel rarely offered anything for free. When he asked for her assistance to take down Keller, her cooperation was contingent upon his retrieval of an item of dubious provenance which had been stolen from her. What would she demand this time?

Raquel's office, like her shop, was furnished in a blend of the Empire style with Egyptian revival. The opulence of the furnishings helped to justify the extravagant prices of her jewelry.

"I was surprised to hear you were in Venice," she said, gesturing for him to take a seat on a mahogany chair upholstered in Chianti silk. "I didn't think your dual paths at the FBI and Columbia left you much time for travel."

"This was a study trip to research my thesis."

She tilted her head. "And your trip to Parma was also part of your thesis?"

Neal wasn't surprised she'd heard about him being in Parma. Mozzie had spread the word on the dark web that Neal had stolen a Da Vinci painting from a museum in that town. If Raquel thought he was still a thief, she'd help keep his reputation intact. He smiled. "You heard about the theft of the Da Vinci?"

"And its recovery," she said, eyeing him appraisingly. "A valued client of mine, Gino Nardone, was arrested in connection with the painting. I've heard various rumors about what happened."

Neal kept his appearance calm and relaxed. He and Peter had already agreed upon the explanation. "Supposedly the theft was a commission job. Nardone attempted to rewrite the contract afterward, but the terms were unsatisfactory." That was skirting the line on what actually took place but was sufficiently vague that Neal didn't feel it qualified as a lie.

"So it's true you work for two bosses? The FBI and Steinar Wolff?"

Neal didn't answer. He didn't need to. Raquel was smug in the knowledge that she was right, and Peter would be pleased that his alias was acquiring a life of its own.

"Is it also under Wolff's orders that you're seeing an insurance agent?"

Neal had been prepared about Steinar but not Sara. The news that Raquel was aware of what until very recently had been a secret relationship was dismaying, but he didn't betray it in his expression. Like it or not, Sara had just become part of the con. "I'm free to see whoever I wish," Neal said, opting to provide the minimum amount of information.

"You always enjoyed an element of risk . . . Sara Ellis has a formidable reputation. I'd hate for you to be caught in a trap, no matter how valuable her connections are. Klaus's arrest should serve as a lesson."

Neal liked the spin she'd placed on his motivation and pounced on the opening it provided. "These are dangerous times for us all. That's why I asked to speak with you. Did you know someone is preying on artists in Venice?"

Her face grew wary. "I'd heard of a few unexplained deaths."

"Are you familiar with Filippo Moretti?"

She nodded. "He was a promising artist. I heard the circumstances were mysterious, but don't know the details. Do you?"

Neal nodded. "The police believe they know who killed him. The suspect is an American woman. She murdered an artist last spring in the States and is believed to have moved to Venice. So far, the police have had no luck locating her. She may be using an alias."

"What's her name?"

"Alcy Lancaster. This is her photo."

Neal retrieved the image from his jacket and handed it to her. Raquel studied it, trying to keep her face expressionless, but he'd swear that for an instant there was a flash of recognition.

She returned the photo. "Sorry, I can't help you."

"Raquel, if you know anything about her, please help us. The woman is likely responsible for several other murders of artists and musicians." Neal hesitated for only a second. "She tried to kill me, as well."

Raquel stared at him, shocked. He was glad to see that registered. Raquel still cared.

"When was this?"

"Last spring, not long after she killed an artist in Connecticut. She's also suspected of having murdered Curtis Hagen." Technically, according to the Winchesters, Hagen wasn't really dead. Instead, he was possessed by the demon Crowley, but this wasn't the time to enlighten Raquel about the habits of demons. "Alcy fled the States shortly afterward. Raquel, she's trouble. The murders won't end until she's stopped."

"You're putting me in a difficult position," she said, idly picking up a silver letter opener with a lapis lazuli scarab mounted in its handle. "As you probably deduced, I'm acquainted with her. She's a valuable client. If I disclose her name, my business could suffer from it."

"But you'll still be alive."

"There is that. Perhaps we can come to a satisfactory arrangement for both of us."

**Later that day at the Carabinieri Office.**

Some things don't change, no matter where you are—the tenseness to the face, the convulsive swallowing. When someone learns that the world is a much more dangerous place than they'd realized, it's hard not to panic.

Claudia was displaying the signs now, and no matter how many times Dean had educated someone about the horrors lurking in the shadows around them, it was no less painful. Claudia had it easier than most since her cousin had already explained about the existence of vampires and Astrena. But he'd only provided an overview of the problem without going into the gore. It was left to Dean and Sam to describe the stark reality of their jobs.

Mozzie had scrounged tickets for them to fly to Venice on El Cheapo Express. Their passports were forgeries. Maybe their tickets were too. Dean had never intended to travel overseas, but now that they were here, he hoped to at least score some decent pizza.

If Mozzie hadn't met them at the airport, they would have been lost. Not a surprise that Mozzie spoke Italian. For anyone who could read Coptic, a modern language must be child's play. They'd stopped off at the hotel just long enough to drop off their bags before heading to the meeting. The pensione was a grade above their usual fare. Situated on a side canal, it was a peaceful place surrounded by gardens, the kind of surroundings Sam would especially appreciate.

Neal and Peter were waiting for them in Claudia's office in some ancient building which Neal told them had been built in the eighteenth century.

"Paolo told me the truth only a month ago," she admitted. "Until then, I thought he was just having a tough time settling down. I figured he might be working with a gang and was embarrassed to tell me about it. Now, to hear what his life was like, fighting demons . . ." Her words trailed off as she shook her head.

"We're very sorry for your loss," Sam said in his most sympathetic manner. How many times had they used the same phrase for families of slain hunters? What the hell could they say to express the personal grief they too felt at one of their own being slaughtered?

Peter exchanged a sympathetic nod with Dean. He understood. Feds and hunters were alike in that respect. Bobby had contacted her cousin several weeks ago when he was making inquiries about Astrena. Paolo had found an old journal of a sixteenth-century hunter who'd described the sword of Saint Mercurius.

"My cousin was exsanguinated," Claudia said, her mouth tightening. "If he hadn't told me that vampires were real and among us, I would have believed him to be the victim of some bizarre ritualistic slaying. That's what my colleagues continue to believe." She shrugged. "It's perhaps for the best that we're meeting here in the evening. There's little likelihood of anyone overhearing us."

Mozzie told them on the way from the airport that the Italian art crimes department maintained a small office in Venice which was separate from police headquarters. It made Mozzie more comfortable in joining them, and it was fine with Dean too. Apart from the White Collar team and a few other cops who knew about the nature of their work, he and his brother were far more likely to be tossed into jail than be sought out as consultants.

"Normally I'm not involved with murders," Claudia continued. "After I was told about Paolo, I checked the records, and in the past several months there have been fifteen other cases of death in Venice which could be attributable to vampires. The first one was in last July. In most of the cases, the bodies had been discovered floating in canals and the blood loss could have been caused by their wounds. Some of the victims, though, like Paolo, were discovered on dry land, and the degree of blood loss was incompatible with their injuries."

"We discovered in Paolo's notes that he believed the sword of Saint Mercurius was buried somewhere on Poveglia Island," Peter told Dean.

"That's not far from Venice," Claudia said. "There are sites on the island which go back to early medieval times, but as for the odds that it's the location of a relic that ancient . . ." She didn't finish the thought, but it was clear she thought their chances of finding anything were slim. "I can take you there in a patrol boat tomorrow," she offered. "It's only a few minutes away."

"You'll want to take salt along," Mozzie advised. "An iron poker or two wouldn't hurt."

Sam exchanged a quick smile with Dean. Supposedly Mozzie had introduced himself to Claudia as their advisor. Was he modeling himself on Bobby? He better get over his fear of germs, pronto.

"For the ghosts?" Claudia took a slow breath. "I never believed the stories about the island being haunted were true. But if vampires are real, I suppose ghosts are too."

Claudia explained that at various times in its past, the island had been used to quarantine plague victims, some of whom were now believed to be ghosts. Dean wasn't overly bothered about the prospect of ghosts. The legends sounded harmless and he doubted there actually were ghosts. In any case, they had brought pokers and salt along with other far deadlier weapons. How Mozzie managed to clear all the gear through customs was not Dean's concern. But by the respectful way he and Sam were treated, their self-appointed agent must have convinced security that the Winchesters were spies working for the Italian government.

Chloe had provided them with a tool that was supposedly better than any metal detector. She and Maia had concocted a potion which, when applied to a silver blade, would turn it into a snoop dog for the Coptic language. The women felt confident that any tombstone for Saint Mercurius would have a Coptic inscription and the treated blade, if it worked, would point out its location.

"Is your contact convinced that Alcy Lancaster is the woman she knows as Shaula Lattanzi?" Sam asked Neal.

"I showed Raquel the photo," Neal said. "She's confident that they're the same person. Raquel first met her four months ago when Shaula made a purchase at Raquel's jewelry boutique. Since then she's been a regular customer."

"Any lingering doubt should be dispelled by her name," Mozzie added. "Shaula is the name of a star in the constellation Scorpius. It means _raised tail_ in Arabic and is the stinger in the tail of the constellation."

Peter exhaled unhappily. "As if we needed a reminder to tread carefully."

"Did Raquel tell you where this scorpion of a witch lives?" Dean asked.

"In a mansion on the Grand Canal. It's called the Palazzo Dario."

Claudia wrote an additional note on the pad of paper in front of her. "That's one of our most famous residences. It dates back to the Middle Ages."

Dean couldn't resist asking although, honestly, why bother? With his luck, he already knew the answer. "I suppose it's haunted too?"

She smiled, erasing some of the tension lines from her face. "As a matter of fact, it does have a notorious history. Over the centuries, many of the people who either owned the building or lived on the premises committed suicide or died under mysterious circumstances. Some say there is a curse on the place." She scanned the group. "Usually when I say something like that, people laugh. I guess you know better?"

"I'd say the jury's still out," Neal said. "Based on the paintings I discovered, Alcy was living in Venice at least as far back as the sixteenth century. Did she live in the palazzo? Does she have any connection to the owner of the property?"

"Does Madame Scorpion rent or own the property?" Mozzie asked.

Claudia turned to her computer and after a few minutes reported, "She leased it this past June."

Dean nodded at Sam. That was right after her disappearance from Connecticut. He was forced to admit that the misery of the flight, even with the addition of Sam's joshing, had been worth it.

"I'll arrange for the premises to be monitored," Claudia said. "Dean and Sam, as far as the Carabinieri are concerned, you're consultants for the FBI who are assisting us with the identification fraud case. I have temporary badges for you so you won't be hindered in your work."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

When they left Claudia's office, they returned to the pensione. After dinner, the brothers would patrol the section of the city near the palazzo. Normally they didn't allow anyone to accompany them, but tonight they'd all go. Neal and Mozzie would act as guides for an orientation tour. Before that took place, though, Peter needed to touch base with his consultant on another matter.

Neal had met them at Claudia's office, and Peter hadn't had a chance to speak with him privately about his discussion with Raquel. Thanks to her, they knew Alcy's alias and where she lived. Call him suspicious, but based on how Raquel operated in New York last winter, there was no way that information came without sticky strings attached.

It hadn't been for naught that Peter had studied Neal's every expression over the past two years. And during the meeting, Neal was stewing about something, showing symptoms of a nervousness which hadn't been present even when they were kidnapped by the Mafia. The signs were subtle. Mozzie was probably the only other one who noticed.

Since Mozzie had delegated himself to be the Winchesters' agent and was now checking them in, Peter took advantage of the break to invite Neal to have a drink in the bar. He waited till their wine came before asking, "How much is Raquel charging?"

Neal winced. "It could have been worse. A ruby-and-diamond necklace."

Peter controlled his groan to a grunt. "Has she already picked out which one?"

He nodded. "It's an antique necklace owned by Shaula."

"And how does Raquel believe you're going to acquire said necklace?"

He raised one shoulder, giving a half-smile. "The usual way."

"I can't allow you to—"

"Alcy's an evil goddess, Peter! Surely that gives us a little leeway. If I steal something from a non-human murderess, is that really so terrible?"

Peter rubbed his forehead. The gray areas in his life were expanding exponentially. On a deep instinctual level, he knew this was wrong, but if it hadn't been for Raquel, it might have taken months to locate Alcy during which time the witch could have assumed yet another alias and drifted off to another location.

"Raquel's offered to invite her out to dinner. That will give us the opportunity we need to search Alcy's mansion," Neal added, pleading his case. "If any vampires are living there, Dean and Sam will be on hand to take care of them. Plus, this will bolster my reputation. I'm supposed to still be a thief even though I work at the Bureau."

"With me as your leader?" Peter's gut still rumbled its displeasure. Not only would Neal's reputation be strengthened but also the ties to his former life. Hughes's warning about perpetuating Neal's links to illegal activities continued to echo in Peter's head. This was a prime example of what he wasn't supposed to allow.

Neal must be aware it wasn't sitting well by the way he was eyeing him uneasily. "I'd appreciate your help, but if you'd rather keep your hands clean, I'll understand."

"You know I won't leave you in the lurch."

"You lecture me for taking too many risks. Isn't letting Alcy escape a greater risk? It's not only my life that's at stake. Everyone's in danger as long as Astrena and her sisters are around." Neal flexed his fingers reflexively. "Every time I think of that portrait room she had in her house . . . all her victims . . . They're crying out for vengeance. We weren't able to stop her in Connecticut. This is our chance."

Peter remembered all too well how upset Neal had been by the destruction of valuable paintings during the fire at Alcy's house. But that personal connection made Neal's participation even more problematic. Dean said that Chloe and Maia had prepared an oil which, when applied to their skin, would prevent them from being affected by spells. It sounded incredible, but the woman already had racked up several successes. Dean trusted the oil would work, but it hadn't been tested against what a goddess could hurl at them. Was her magic intrinsically different from a witch's?

For now, Peter limited himself to saying, "If we can't find the sword, it's going to be a moot point." His gut was telling him Alcy wasn't the cause of Neal's edginess nor was it the necklace Raquel demanded, although by rights it should have been. Peter took a sip of wine, hoping it would help him decide how to pry the answer out of Neal without appearing to make an issue out of it. He should have requested beer. His brain wasn't wired to work as well with wine.

"Raquel had heard about our sting," Neal added. "She also knows about Steinar Wolff. Your street cred has skyrocketed."

"Did she buy into our line that Nardone reneged on the deal?"

Neal nodded. "She must assume I'm in a rare position of power. If anyone tries to cheat me, I can take advantage of my connections with the FBI and Interpol to make them pay."

Neal wasn't looking as happy about it as he should be. "You're not worried that she knows, are you?" Peter asked.

"No, I would have been surprised if she hadn't heard. And I was glad for the confirmation that the con's still solid. Raquel didn't question that I lead a shadow underground life."

"Anything else I should know?"

Neal took a breath. "Not really."

"As your friend, not your boss or Steinar Wolff?"

Neal gazed moodily into his glass. "She knows about Sara."

"What did she say?" Neal had already answered Peter's biggest question. He wasn't worried about Alcy being around even though the witch had already tried to kill him once. Vampires? No problem. So what if Neal had been abducted by them once before with so much of his blood siphoned off that Peter had donated enough blood to make him a Burke? Instead, Neal was stressing about hypothetical danger scenarios for Sara. Would he ever learn?

"Raquel asked me what game I was playing by going out with an insurance investigator," the incorrigible frustrated knight added. "It made me realize that Sara's already sucked into the Wolff con. Either I'm playing her for her connections or she's in on it. Sara and I discussed it in Florence, but I didn't stop to consider the ramifications. Her reputation suffers no matter how we handle it. I don't think Raquel will take advantage of the situation, but I can't count on it."

"So you've fallen into one of those messy gray areas too."

He nodded gloomily. "A couple of days ago, it seemed so simple. We could date like normal people. No more need for deceptions. I should have realized it would be more complicated than that. Sara will be tainted by my actions, the people I know."

"Don't go overboard on this," Peter interjected hastily. "Sara already knows about the nature of your work. Has she made an issue of it?"

"On the contrary, and we knew conflicts might surface," he added, a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "Mozzie knows better than to do anything which would raise flags with Sterling-Bosch. I told her if she has evidence of someone involved in a theft, she should focus on doing her job. If Gordon Taylor gets caught by her, for instance, it's not my place to interfere."

"That's a mature way of addressing it," Peter said in a neutral voice, treading carefully. So far the only benefit he could see of letting Neal talk was that he was freaking out even more. Fortunately, Mozzie had gone upstairs with the Winchesters. If Peter could keep Neal analyzing it, he'd figure out how to solve the issue on his own.

"You talked about the clashes you could encounter. That's a good first step. Have you stopped to think about the joint ops which may result? Steinar Wolff and his ace thief may be just the ticket to help Sterling-Bosch's clients."

Neal gave a faint smile which vanished as quickly as it arrived. "I didn't expect you to advocate for expanding the con. What would Hughes say to that?"

Thinking about that discussion would make him the one freaking out. "Stings are routine for the Bureau," Peter said, refusing to stress about hypothetical joint ops for Steinar Wolff and his apparently ever-expanding crew. "Granted, the Wolff con is of longer duration than most."

"And it could come back to bite Sara. Raquel knows about her. Others may as well, including my enemies. Because of me, Sara runs the risk of being targeted." He raked a hand through his hair. "I know I can't her keep her shut out, but it makes me feel so damn helpless. How did you manage your anxiety for Elizabeth when Rolf had us on his radar?"

"It was a struggle for me too," Peter admitted. "You need to learn how to process it and not let it overwhelm you. There are courses the FBI offers in managing stress for undercover operatives. I'm signing you up for the next session."

"I may need to do remedial work first." He made a half-assed attempt of a smile. "I know it will be an issue. As you and Mozzie so gleefully reminded me, you remember what I was like when Keller threatened Fiona."

"You're worried the same thing will happen with Sara?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I messed up badly with Fiona. In trying to protect her, I shut her out of my life, and that undoubtedly was a factor in our breakup. I don't want to make the same mistake with Sara."

"And you won't. I can't imagine Sara would let you. The game you and she played was harmless fun. You'll go back to New York, being able to discuss your relationship openly. Even though Sara's not in New York, being able to talk about her will make her seem not so far away."

"I hope so. A big part of the reason we decided to keep our dates a secret was because we both felt so insecure about our previous disasters. As long as that secrecy continued, I didn't have to worry about her being targeted by Rolf . . . or Astrena . . . or anyone else. I guess I was fooling myself that I was prepared for what life in the limelight would be like."

"Don't beat yourself up over this. It's natural you'd have a moment of panic. Being open about your personal relationships goes against the grain of being a con artist. Sara must realize that as well. What can I do to help?"

"Talk me down if I start to panic?" His attempt to make a joke out of it didn't fool Peter for a second. The kid was more nervous about it than he'd probably admit to anyone, especially himself. "Henry and I discussed how difficult it would be to not erect walls to shield Eric and Sara. We decided to form a CA club."

"Tell me that doesn't stand for con artists," Peter pleaded, mentally preparing his rebuttal.

Neal gave a rueful smile. "We don't need a club for that. CA stands for Conspirators Anonymous."

"Allow me to volunteer my services as coach."

"Gladly." Neal swirled the wine in its glass for a moment. "I have a little time to get used to the idea. Sara will be in London—"

"Where she'll be safer? You're already falling into the trap."

"Yeah, but I can't go cold turkey!"

"All right, you got a breathing spell. That's also a good way to view her absence." Peter took another swig of the wine. The taste was starting to grow on him. "What you need is time to develop a fresh approach to that dragon chasing you."

Neal arched an eyebrow. "Dragon?"

Peter nodded. "I haven't forgotten the mural you painted at the Chinese restaurant just before you began working at the Bureau." Neal's work depicted a blue dragon clutching a pearl. It was being pursued through the clouds by a larger ferocious red dragon.

Neal smiled. "When you saw it, you incorrectly assumed I was thinking of us."

"I was partially right. The blue dragon was you, but you claimed that the red dragon represented your fears and doubts. It sounds to me like you're now in danger of letting it catch you. That's going to be a subject for a future CA boot camp, and I'm warning you upfront that your and Henry's attendance will be mandatory."

Neal had already taken a big step forward by being so candid, and this was one area Peter had a lot of experience with. There had been more than one occasion when he'd been sorely tempted to lock Neal up to keep him safe. That boot camp would be a good idea for all of them. But first, they needed to survive Venice. Peter was half-tempted to wish the sword couldn't be found. They'd all nearly died when they confronted Alcy last time. Would the sword of a saint, no matter how ancient, make any difference?

* * *

Notes: The vampire abduction was in _Whispers in the Night_. This isn't the first time Raquel and Neal exchanged quotes of ancient Egyptian love poems. They also recited poetry in canon and in _The Mirror_. I thought this poem was appropriate for Venice.

"I found my love by the secret canal,  
Feet dangling down in the water,  
He had made a hushed cell in the thicket, for worship,  
To dedicate this day,  
To holy elevation of the flesh.”  
– Papyrus Chester Beatty I

The dragon mural Neal painted was featured in a flashback scene in _Harlequin's Shadow_. Peter brought up the reference because he knows Neal likes dragons. They also have a special significance for Penna Nomen and me. About a year ago, I'd started a tradition of pairing our upcoming writing year with an animal in honor of Penna's birthday which occurs in January. 2019 was the writing year of the penguin, and you may have noticed several penguin references scattered in our stories. This year Penna chose dragons. Like Neal, Penna and I hope to befriend any dragons circling overhead. Our blog has more about the [writing year of the dragon](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/01/welcome-to-year-of-dragon.html) as well as Penna's encounter with her [first dragon of 2020](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/01/first-dragon-of-year.html). My post this week is about [Venice and the Supernatural](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/01/venice-and-supernatural.html).  
  
Happy Birthday, Penna! The dragons are promising an exciting year ahead.

_Chapter Visuals and Music: A Witch in Venice board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:_ [ _pinterest.com/caffreycon_ ](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon) __  
_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: _ [ _pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com_ ](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com) _  
_ _Twitter:_ [ _@silbrith_ ](https://twitter.com/silbrith)


	3. Scorpion's Kiss

**Venice. Tuesday, January 2, 2006.**

"We found the sword!" Sam told Maia, still riding the high from its discovery.

"The potion worked?" she asked excitedly.

"Perfectly. Chalk up another success for our two favorite witches."

"Perhaps you need a new business card. Something like _Have Witches Will Travel_. Do you think Dean would go along with the idea?"

Sam chuckled. "He might if we had a pair of Winchester rifles embossed on it."

When they returned to the pensione, Mozzie let Sam use his cell phone to call Maia. Sam hadn't had time to buy an international SIM card before they left. Mozzie encouraged him to talk as long as he wanted. Sam was certain that Mozzie wouldn't be the one paying for the charges, and that didn't bother him. Dean had already hammered into him that fake credit cards were simply a token payment for what the world owed them for their services.

"How long did it take you to find it?" Maia asked.

"Only about an hour. Claudia—that's the name of the Italian detective—drove us in an electric patrol boat to the island. Once Dean dipped his blade into the potion, the knife began pulling him to a field. There was nothing visible, but we'd brought along shovels. Buried about two feet below ground was a limestone casket. It had a Coptic inscription on the lid. When we pried it off, the sword was inside."

"What does it look like?"

"Claudia said it resembles a Roman gladius. It's about two feet long, made of silver. And get this, the metal appears in pristine condition. I've never seen anything like it. There's no corrosion even though it must be ancient. The wooden hilt is bound with leather."

"Did Claudia give you any trouble about keeping the sword?"

"No." Sam hesitated. He'd seen Claudia's type before. Family members of deceased hunters who got pulled into the life as a way of carrying out the hunter's legacy. He and Dean had talked with her extensively about what their jobs were like. "She's ready to do whatever it takes to eliminate the threat in Venice, and she recognizes we'll need the sword for the other sisters."

"I hope Alcy isn't Astrena. I'm afraid that it may not be strong enough on its own to banish a goddess. Chloe and I are trying to find something to strengthen its effect."

"I don't think you need to worry about Alcy being Astrena. Nowhere have we read that Astrena is associated with scorpions. You'd think someone would have mentioned it if that was the case."

Maia chuckled. "I never thought I'd be happy about scorpions, but there's always a first time. Claudia must be happy too. Finding a Coptic site on the island is quite a discovery. How will she handle it?"

"She'll report the casket but say that it was found empty."

"You're being careful, right? Wearing Fang No. 5 when you patrol?"

Sam smiled at the reference. The women had sent them off with a trillium-based oil that masked their scent from vampires. Vampires never forget a scent, but with this product, Dean and Sam could remain anonymous. "Don't worry. We're taking precautions. And there's enough spell repellent for everyone to wear during the raid."

He heard her take a nervous breath. "I wish we'd had more time to test it. Remember, it only will remain potent for a half-hour."

"We'll put it on at the last minute," he assured her. "Your grimoire dates back to the ancient Greeks. If anyone knows how to neutralize a goddess, it should be them." Maia had obtained the book from Electra's grandmother. She'd first assumed the spells were simply fragments of ancient poetry, but Chloe and Peony had confirmed their true nature. Both Maia and Chloe's grimoires were treasure mines of herbal preparations which, when combined with spells, gave Dean and him a real edge on their supernatural foes. Even Dean, who'd been initially nervous about Chloe studying witchcraft, was ready to sign them on as full partners.

The showdown with Alcy was two days off. Neal's contact has invited Alcy out to dinner on Thursday evening. While she was otherwise engaged, they planned to raid her mansion, eliminate any lowlifes, and then stage a trap for her. Claudia had signed off on it. Neal and Mozzie were eager participants. Peter had reluctantly agreed only after the sword was found.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

When Sam passed the phone to Dean, Maia left the room to give Chloe privacy and headed for the kitchen. It wasn't a proper stillroom, but it was the best they could manage with the space available. Having a room devoted exclusively to herbs and potion would have to remain a dream for a while longer.

When Maia bought the tiny cottage last summer, she hadn't expected how transformed her life would be in a few short months. Both she and Chloe had joined a Wicca coven out of curiosity, not realizing they had any ability in witchcraft. Now they knew they were related through a Salem witch to Irish ancestors who were also witches.

When Sam and Dean announced they were flying to Venice and might confront Astrena, she and Chloe had supplied them with the still-experimental potion. Not only the Winchesters, but Neal, Peter, and an Italian detective were relying on the oil to keep themselves safe.

Maia's stomach gave an uneasy lurch. It had been impossible to test the potion adequately. Would it work? Would it have been better not to give it to them so they'd be more cautious?

"You look as worried as I feel," Chloe said, walking into the kitchen. "Do you have any more of that tea?"

Maia poured her a cup from the teapot. "Did we do the right thing?"

"Dean reminded me the trillium essence works. This should as well."

"But we're relying on a formula which I don't even know why I understand." Maia had discovered that much of the grimoire Electra's grandmother had given her was written in Old Irish using letters from the Greek alphabet.

"I can't explain it," Chloe said, "but I wonder if somehow Airmid is helping you."

Maia and Chloe had been able to trace their ancestry back to the ancient Irish druid named Airmid whose skill with herbs was legendary. She'd appeared to them both during a séance in New York. The druid had called them her daughters. Could she have enabled Maia to read it?

"You were going to ask your sister about her grandmother," Chloe said. "What did Electra have to say?"

"She wouldn't talk to me about her," Maia confided. "Electra seemed angry that I brought her up so I let it drop."

"I have a theory about how it happened," Chloe said. "When Airmid mingled with us, she must have given you the ability to read the text. You already know so many languages. She probably thought you were the better candidate. Airmid blended with us in that séance. She read our thoughts. That means she knows about Astrena, and she realized we would have to fight her someday."

"That does seem possible," Maia admitted. "There were many interactions between the Celts and ancient Greeks. I'd never considered that the Greek gods were actually real, but now we know Astrena and her brother Thanatos are. It makes sense that the druids may have concocted potions to fight back."

Chloe's hand tightened on Maia's. "Our potion to sever Astrena's link worked. This will too."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Neal breathed in the night air, enjoying the salt-scented breeze. In Venice, the smell on the streets could be overpowering even in winter. Not on the rooftops where air currents acted as purifiers. He'd climbed up to his position on top of Alcy's palazzo from the neighboring house. As soon as Peter gave him the signal, he'd scale down the side to enter the third floor. According to the blueprints registered with the historical building commission, that was the location of the master bedroom.

Mozzie was already on-site at the restaurant where Raquel was taking Alcy. Upon his call to Peter that the women had arrived, Claudia would conduct a raid of Alcy's palazzo with Peter, Dean, and Sam. Mozzie would continue to monitor Alcy. With a thoroughness born of a lifetime of paranoia, he was disguised as a woman in case Alcy left for the ladies' room.

The Winchesters' surveillance had picked up three individuals who were likely not household staff. The shocker of the group was Drasco. The pure-blood that Dean and Sam thought they'd killed in early December was still alive, or as much as any member of the undead could be. On one occasion, he'd strolled out of the premises arm in arm with Alcy, sparking renewed speculation that she was Astrena. The other two—a man and a woman—were both young. They were dressed too casually to be household employees. Were they vampires? Dean said there was no way to know till they attacked, but he and Sam were assuming the worst.

Claudia hadn't involved any of her agents since explaining to them why decapitation might be necessary wasn't her preferred method of conducting a briefing. She had, however, stationed a backup unit which could be called upon in an emergency.

"You're clear to go." Peter's voice through the earpiece was calm, giving no hint of the grave misgivings he still had. Neal appreciated the reassurance even if it wasn't genuine. His own adrenaline was in hyperdrive.

"See you on the inside," Neal murmured and yanked his cable one final time for luck. It wasn't like the old days. The risk element for the climb wasn't high. Claudia already knew he'd be sneaking into the witch's bedroom. She simply was unaware of the extracurricular activity on his agenda.

Neal shimmied down the cable and onto a third-floor balcony. The curtains were pulled back, allowing the chamber beyond to be easily viewed. Peering around the edge of the window, he didn't see anyone inside. The room with a pastiche of gothic and rococo elements woven together in a fantasy of turquoise and gold. The bed was draped with a heavy turquoise satin canopy. The Chinoiserie-patterned wallpaper was the same color. Neal stepped light as a cat onto the Aubusson carpet.

Through his earpiece, he could hear Claudia's voice in the background. She was speaking in Italian to someone, probably a housekeeper. Neal started his search for the safe which he was confident was hidden somewhere in the room.

Downstairs, Peter, Sam, and Dean were wearing Carabinieri uniforms with machetes concealed within evidence bags. Their professed purpose was to secure the computer equipment as evidence of identity fraud. Since Drasko had been placed on the Bureau's wanted list for identity fraud after the incident in West Virginia, obtaining a court order had been straightforward. Claudia didn't feel it was necessary to mention that Drasko had supposedly already been killed in New York City.

Pounding footsteps indicated they were on the stairs. An image flashed through Neal's mind of a door being forced open, guns raised . . .

_And there you are_. Neal smiled at the wall-mounted safe hidden behind a framed reproduction of a Monet painting of the palazzo. He tuned out the shouts below to focus on cracking it.

The lock was only of medium difficulty, making him wonder if Alcy was relying on magical wards to keep it secure. Apparently not, for the door opened easily, and the glittering treasures inside were a veritable Pandora's box of jewels . . .

"Alcy's disappeared," Peter's voice through the earpiece was urgent. "Mozzie just called. She vanished from a stall in the ladies' room. We're coming up."

"What do we have here?" The woman's soprano voice came from behind him. "Could this be Astrena's tasty morsel?"

Neal spun around to see Alcy standing in the middle of the room. Her jet-black cocktail dress was adorned with a small brooch. As she approached him, he could see it was a gold scorpion set with rubies and diamonds.

"You've moved your nest," Neal said. _Peter, you better be listening_. "I didn't realize Venice was now infected with scorpions. Fortunately, I know of an excellent exterminator."

Her lips curled into a snarl. "You'd be wise to not provoke me. Astrena can wait for her delicacy till after I've feasted on you."

_You can show up anytime, guys_ , Neal thought as a bead of sweat ran down his forehead.

She raised her hand and hissed, _"Exafanisou!"_

And . . . nothing. He gasped in relief. Last time she used that command, he'd been hurled against a wall in her basement.

The door burst open as Peter, Dean, Sam, and Claudia charged in. Never had a thief been so happy to be discovered.

"Signora Lattanzi, you're under arrest," Claudia said in Italian.

Alcy spun around, waving her hand once more. Her command to Exafanisou, whatever that was, once more resulted in zero reaction.

Could it be that easy?

Of course not.

A whirlwind of gas formed around Alcy. She appeared to rise above the ground as the gas coalesced into a scorpion's tail extending behind her. She stretched out her arms, the fingernails on her index fingers growing rapidly in length till they were several inches long. In a flash she wrapped herself around Neal, jabbing her nails against his throat as her tail coiled itself around him.

"Your magic won't prevent me from killing him. Leave me now." She lifted him into the air as her feet left the ground. Her eyes had turned fiery red. Neal could feel her nails biting into his flesh.

"No escaping this time," Dean growled and whipped out the sword from its sheath. With one leap he slashed her side with the blade.

If she were human, the wound wouldn't be a mortal injury. But Alcy was not mortal. With a shriek, she vaporized into a cloud of red gas which hovered in the air before vanishing. Neal dropped back to the ground.

"Are you all right?" Peter asked sharply, rushing to his side.

Neal nodded, catching his breath. She'd only inflicted a couple of scratches, and it had happened so quickly he didn't have time to feel as terrified as he should have. Somewhere bells were ringing "Ding Dong the Witch is Dead."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"May all our witches be good ones and bear presents." Neal raised his cup of coffee to the gondolas. The pensione where they were staying was on a side canal and provided excellent views of the men in hag costumes who were on their way to the Regatta of the Befana on the Grand Canal. Neal and his fellow hunters were enjoying a late breakfast before leaving for the airport. Mozzie had made the travel arrangements. They'd all fly home on the same plane later in the day.

"To Chloe and Maia and the gifts they provided," he continued. "Thanks to them, the world is a safer place."

"I wish we were toasting the demise of Astrena instead," Peter said. "It's clear from what Alcy said to Neal that her big, bad sister is still on the loose."

Dean shrugged. "That's the way it usually is for us. One monster's gone but there are plenty of others to hunt. Compared with the results we had in Connecticut, we did a damned sight better this time. We know the sword works on demi-goddesses. Now all it needs is a power boost."

"Plus, Chloe and Maia's potion was effective," Sam said. "That's no small feat. And don't forget, there are also two fewer vampires in Venice."

While Neal searched for the safe, the others had found seven hackers operating out of a second-floor office. Only two of them were human. Dean had brought along darts filled with dead man's blood which simplified the roundup, but Drasko managed to escape. There was no hint of him having any special powers like he'd displayed when they thought they'd killed him in New York. Did that mean he wasn't a pure-blood, after all? The Winchesters didn't seem particularly bothered by it. They simply added Drasko to their ever-growing list of threats.

Claudia had achieved a measure of revenge for her brother, plus her eyes had been opened to a world she didn't know existed. Neal had found the ruby-and-diamond necklace Raquel craved in the safe. It was an antique piece, probably valued at around $50,000. When Peter grumbled about giving it to her, Neal pointed out that Alcy had far more valuable jewelry in the safe, including several colored diamonds and three diamond-and-emerald necklaces. The total value would be several million dollars. Under the circumstances, Raquel's fee was quite reasonable.

Did Astrena know Alcy was destroyed? Would she learn of their involvement? Sam said it was possible that a psychic link connected the sisters. That could make Astrena even more driven to seek vengeance.

The thought didn't bother Neal. Like the Winchesters, he was used to having a list of threats. So was Peter, for that matter. It was the nature of the business.

Neal could easily rationalize Sara was better off to remain in London, but that was an unsatisfactory solution. If he wanted to have Sara in his life, he'd have to learn to accept the additional risk he was putting her under. The danger didn't bother her. He was the one who needed to come to terms with it.

"Sorry, no finder's fees for you this time," Peter told Mozzie.

Mozzie gave him a sly smile. "Sometimes the fee isn't a monetary one. I haven't been unrewarded."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "You didn't lift anything from Alcy's townhouse, I hope?"

"Only something intangible," he said, not providing any details.

"Should I be concerned?" Neal asked, eyeing him warily.

Mozzie shrugged. " _Concerned_ isn't the word I'd choose, but when you read the next Arkham Files story, remember this conversation."

* * *

_Notes: Thanks for reading! It's for the best Mozzie didn't tell Neal and Peter that the next story is called Scorpion Hill. Undoubtedly there would have been words._

_I'll begin posting Scorpion Hill on February 19. Next week, I'll post the next installment in my Six-Crossed Knot series (All Souls Trilogy fandom). The title of the story is Walking Shadows. If you're ever curious about the schedule of upcoming Caffrey Conversation stories, the information is available on our blog. Penna's latest post for the blog is "[A Tale of Two Dragons](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/01/a-tale-of-two-dragons.html)." I wrote about the [backdrop to Walking Shadows](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/01/backdrop-to-walking-shadows.html). _

_Chapter Visuals and Music: A Witch in Venice board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[pinterest.com/caffreycon](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon)_   
_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: [pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)_   
_Twitter:[@silbrith](https://twitter.com/silbrith)_


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